


Say Goodnight and Stay Together

by Werelibrarian



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Making Out, Multi, Sneaking Around, Threesome - F/M/M, Young Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-09 17:40:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7811134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Werelibrarian/pseuds/Werelibrarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started with three friends, the kind of friends that, if you wanted one, you looked for the other two. Then one day, one of them said, "kiss me."</p><p>It continued because none of them said, "but just you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say Goodnight and Stay Together

**Author's Note:**

> Title from The Beach Boys.

For the sake of tradition, they tried the broom closet first.

"I'm not complaining," Foggy panted, his eyes closing at the feel of Karen's lips on his jaw, "it's just that it smells like bleach in here and there's no lock on the door."

Matt, head lolled back on Foggy's shoulder and his fingers twined in Karen's hair, just sighed, because while Foggy's mouth was good at cautious and responsible, his hands were making themselves at home under Matt's shirt.

"Uh huh," Karen said, nibbling Foggy's earlobe.

"Is this how it's going to be? Instead of one person not listening I get two?" Foggy smeared the words against her soft lips.

"We'd take your complaining more seriously if you weren't playing with Matt's nipples while you were doing it,"

"I'm taking it seriously," Matt sighed, "just don't stop." Foggy narrowed his eyes and dragged his fingernails down Matt's abs to make his breath hitch.

He wasn't disappointed.

Something in the back of his brain was clanging alarms, insisting that kissing in a broom closet is a bad plan, and he was right. There was a mop handle jabbing him in the back and the sliver of light coming from under the door was simply not enough to appreciate anything by.

That's not what I meant, the voice in the back of his brain admonished, but it was drowned out by the Greek chorus of lust and adoration for the two beautiful people mashed up against his front.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway outside, and they froze. In the sudden silence, the footsteps sounded like hammer strikes on an anvil.

"Oh shit," Foggy said, weakly.

"Columbia," whimpered Matt. Karen nodded, her face buried in Matt's shirt.

Last year, they had been three of the most successful juniors in school. Now, in the January of their senior year, the road to Columbia was all but paved in gold. Foggy's application essay (only on its seventh draft) moved everyone to tears, Karen edited a hard-hitting school paper that she had built from nothing when she was only a ninth grader, and Matt's GPA was legendary within all five boroughs of New York. Getting caught in a broom closet with not one but two people? They might as well have burned their application packets.

The footsteps neared. Matt started praying into the collar of his shirt and Karen was pushed away from them, curled unhappily in the opposite corner. They all knew that even with the scandal of Foggy and Matt's bisexuality coming out, everyone would come down on her--the girl caught with two boys--the hardest.

Foggy looked at his terrified best friends in the low light and came to a decision. He was only eighteen, but he knew that he was going to protect these two for as long as they would let him.

Crossing his arms, he planted his feet in front of the door.

"Foggy, what are you doing?" Karen hissed.

"They're going to have to go through me," Foggy hissed back.

"It's not a siege, Foggy, it won't matter," said Matt, miserably.

"I'll tell them it was my idea. I'm not letting them ruin Columbia for you two." He held his breath as the footsteps paused right outside...

Please like me when I'm working at the Starbucks next to Columbia instead of inside with you, he prayed.

...and carried on, down the corridor and away.

Karen draped herself on Foggy's back, holding him tight as he slumped in relief. "My hero," she murmured.

"We should probably get out of here," Matt suggested, coming to stand at Foggy's other shoulder.

The hallway outside of the closet was empty, but they tried to look normal anyway, just three friends walking along, nothing to see. But Matt's face was still pale, Karen's hair was a fluffy mess, and Foggy suspected that the heat that stretched from his ear to his collar had a corresponding red rash.

"Hey." Matt took Karen's hand and Foggy threw his arm over his broad shoulders. "We're ok."

They had always been the touchy-feely kind of friends, before, and everyone just rolled their eyes and got used to it. Karen couldn't sit anywhere near them without putting her feet on one of their laps, and Foggy's arm lived to be draped around Matt's shoulders. Matt seldom initiated touch, but he returned it with enthusiasm. He also sniffed them all the time, and Foggy and Karen were refusing to feel guilty about the fact that they found it adorable, and a little bit sexy. 

There were countless moments, watching Matt stroke gentle hands over Karen's bare ankles, or rub strands of Foggy's rumply hair between his fingers, and Foggy sometimes felt stupid he didn't actually see this--the three of them together--on the horizon from the beginning.

It started with three friends, the kind of friends that, if you wanted one, you looked for the other two. Then one day, one of them said, "kiss me."

They don't agree on who said it first.

Karen claimed it was Matt, in the empty school cafeteria late one spring afternoon in junior year, all their textbooks and exam notes spread out in front of them like a tablecloth.

Matt claimed Foggy said it, on one of many stormy summer nights piled on the scratchy sofa in the common room in St. Agnes'. Foggy's hair had been a fluffy, frizzy riot from the humidity, and Matt and Karen had been half asleep on top of him.

Foggy claimed that Karen _hadn't_ said it. It hadn't been bold enough for her, and so it wasn't so much "kiss me" as her gripping him and Matt by the biceps and saying, a little wild-eyed, "it's time to stop talking about it," and kissing them on their dithering, procrastinating mouths with the intensity of a rocket blasting off.

It started because one of them said, "kiss me." It continued because none of them said, "but just you."

By unspoken consensus, they ended up at Matt's locker. When they got there, Matt threw his weight against it, grabbed Foggy by the belt-loops and pulled him in for another kiss. Karen snickered at Foggy's "gleep!" of surprise, hooked her chin over his shoulder to watch Matt lick into his mouth. He hoped she had at least one eyeball on the hallway.

The Grad Hall was the L-shaped section of hallway where all the twelfth-graders had their lockers, and on a good day it was a bit like a tent city. The school--probably thinking that good or bad behaviour was pretty well ingrained by senior year, and that trying to police them at that late stage was a bit of a waste of time--let them use the hallway like a second home. From seven in the morning to six or seven at night, seniors could be counted on to use the hall to to eat, sleep, study, argue, have meetings, hook-up, break-up, and generally run themselves ragged trying to polish themselves up for graduation.

Still, it was a hallway with four doors to the outside and two stairways leading down from the main floor--a minimum of six ways to get caught.

"You look so good," Karen purred, wrapped around Foggy, and Matt shuddered; they could both feel her breath on their faces. "Sexy boys, my pretty honeys." 

"You could join us," Matt said, not fully breaking away from Foggy.

"Who'd keep watch?"

"You're not doing that anyway, you're breathing heavy into my ear."

Karen smiled, and leaned past Foggy to press it against Matt's cheek. "Can you blame me?"

Matt captured Karen's lips with his own, and Foggy decided _he_ couldn't blame her, even if Matt could, because he had a front row seat and he could see the exact moment Matt slipped her his tongue.

"Oh god," he moaned. Matt kissed like he never wants to do anything else, and Karen was _so_ into it, gasping and hitching pleasured little breaths, rubbing herself all along Foggy's back. Why wasn't this the way everyone did it? Why was this the weird way? He was surrounded by warmth and softness and groping hands, and everyone should feel this awesome. 

But not with these two, he thought. These two are mine.

Foggy swallowed dryly every time he could see their tongues moving together inside their joined mouths, and worked his way up Karen's neck to kiss the corners of their lips, wondering if there was space for him too.

It was a little bit like licking the corner of a room, but it was still good. Groaning, they turned their head to let him into the kiss, and it was an orgy of lips and tongues and hot breath. Matt bit at his lower lip and Karen sucked his tongue, and at one point both she and Foggy were both licking the inside Matt's mouth, wet and perfect.

"Foggy, your pants are vibrating." Matt pulled away with a harsh intake of breath. "I mean, I'm enjoying it, but--"

"Ooh, dibs on the front next time," Karen said, untangling herself and pulling down the hem of her sweater.

Foggy shook his head. This was what you got for kissing your best friends--the same teasing, just delivered with a lot more saliva. He dug the phone out of his pocket and looked at the number.

"Crap, it's my grandmother." He thumbed the screen. "Hi Nana."

"Foggy, do you know what time it is? Are you coming home for dinner?" Nana and Pop Nelson lived with Foggy and his parents and his sister, and they used the living room to look after a half-dozen of the neighbourhood's toddlers practically every day of the week. They also cooked dinner for Foggy's parents, who ran the hardware store until nine-thirty. Foggy has maybe eaten about ten dinners in the last four years (since Candace was old enough not to need baby-sitting herself) without a spare child at the table. He'd gotten so good at "here comes the airplane" that he could do it while feeding himself with the other hand and having a conversation at the same time.

"Foggy?" a little voice, near to the phone, chirped, "Foggy I drawed an octopus!"

Nan shushed whatever neighbourhood munchkin she had snuggled on her shoulder, and there was a brief tussle of the phone receiver being fought over.

Foggy reached out and tapped Matt's wrist with an interrogative grunt. Matt felt his watch (a gift from Foggy's whole family on his sixteenth birthday) and held up six fingers.

"Nan, I'm gonna walk Matt and Karen home, and I'll be back by quarter to seven. Is that ok?"

"Yes, dear, that's fine. Your granddad's making brown rice, so that'll need to boil for another week at least."

"Oh. Hurrah." Foggy was not sold on brown rice. Why didn't they just put it on his plate straight from out of the bag? Cooking didn't seem to do anything to it.

"You and me both, sweetheart," Nan said, conspiratorially, and hung up.

Karen and Matt both had expectant expressions when he pocketed his phone. "Brown rice with dinner," he reported. They made commiserating noises.

"Come on, let me walk you home," Foggy said, and took both of their hands in his.

Karen lived in the basement of a converted brownstone with an aunt who made amazing Mexican tortilla soup and was an absolute fascist about boys in the bedroom. When Foggy and Matt used to come over, the three of them spent most of their time on the front step. In the summer, they lounged on thin bamboo matts in the shade of the front stairs and ate grape popsicles by the box, the radio turned up as loud as they could get away with. Now, in a New York January, when it was already dark out, they huddled together on the freezing concrete step like a clutch of baby owls.

He leaned in closed against Matt's side, and Karen's face was right there for him to kiss, protected from being seen from the street by Matt's body.

"I could stay here all night," Karen sighed, as she stole kisses from Foggy and Matt in turn.

"Ok, but my ass is numb," Matt said, equally dreamily.

Karen laughed at him and sank her teeth into the skin behind his ear with a playful growl, and the blush-pink, affectionate bubble enveloping them popped.

Matt bucked his hips, and groaned. "Do that again."

Karen pulled back, her mouth slack. She stared at Foggy, who stared back, feeling mushy in the brain and hard in his pants. Her wide eyes slid back to Matt's red, hickeyed neck, and she attacked him, fisting the collar of his coat.

Matt held on for dear life, he used Foggy's thigh for support, and it didn't take much shifting before Matt's hand was cupped over his dick and squeezing.

"Fuck, Matt," Foggy breathed.

"Oh god, will you?" Matt panted. It took Foggy's sluggish brain a few seconds to parse Matt's words, but when it did, Foggy felt like he was moments from coming.

"Yes, goddamn it, yes," Foggy whispered, imagining Matt naked and spread out on his bed, Karen equally naked beside him. She was running her fingers of Matt's hip, wrapping her hand around the base of his cock as Foggy pushed inside him, both of them making him arch his back and yank at the sheets and--

A taxi horn blared in the distance, and everything shattered. They straightened up, all of them panting like marathoners.

"I should--" Karen gulped air, "I should get inside."

"Kay," Foggy said, struggling for control. He couldn't take his eyes off the flush that stained her cheeks.

"I should probably go home too. Um, by myself," Matt said, a little distantly, hair wild and glasses steamed up.

"Kay," Foggy said again, "no, wait, what? I said I'd walk you home."

"No, that's probably not a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Because I have to walk in through a gauntlet of nuns, and I don't want to look freshly fucked."

Foggy swallowed hard. Matt didn't swear a lot--less than Foggy, _way_ less than Karen--but he knew how to use it for maximum damage.

"I'll be good," he promised.

Matt smirked, sweet and dirty, because he didn't know what earthquakes were happening in Foggy's chest. "I won't."

He looked at Matt, still curled up against Karen, both of them gorgeous and grinning and pink-cheeked, and they'd picked him. It was terrific and terrifying, whatever this was that his heart was doing now, and Foggy couldn't do anything but stare at both of them. 

"Right, yeah, ok," he gave in.

Matt pressed his face against them and gave them a good sniff, sighed, and stood up. "See you at school tomorrow?"

"Yeah." Karen pecked him on the mouth, uselessly polite given that her face was rubbed pink in a ring around her mouth. Her lips on Foggy's started out as a peck, but all of a sudden he had her tongue in his mouth and was trying to give back as good as he got.

She pulled away with a whine. "All I've done today is kiss you guys and I don't want to stop."

"Yeah, I know the feeling," Matt said. Foggy mumbled and adjusted himself.

"Get home safe, guys," Karen said, slipping through the door, and because she was evil, peered at them from under her lashes and said breathily, "bye, honeys."

Foggy kept hold of Matt's hand for a block before they had to walk in opposite directions.

"I want to kiss you again," Matt said, as Foggy smoothed Matt's hair into some sort of order.

"I want to let you. But you can hear all the people," Foggy said, trailing his fingers down Matt's neck, lingering on the dark marks left by Karen's mouth.

"Yeah."

Foggy chewed his lip. "We could, though. We'd just be two gay boys being gross on the street."

"We're not gay," Matt said, but he was already leaning in. Foggy stopped him with a hand on his chest.

"I know. But Karen."

"Yeah." The first time Matt and Foggy kissed, Karen was there. The first time Foggy and Karen kissed, Matt was there. Foggy wanted, and Matt wanted, but without Karen--part of him worried it'd feel like cheating. Another part of him worried it'd be like going into a battlefield without back-up. "I'll see you at school?"

"Ok."

Foggy brushed Matt's face with his fingers and said goodbye. Ten minutes later they finally managed to part. It took nearly the entire three blocks home for his erection to subside, and then only because he kept thinking about brown rice.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](http://www.werelibrarian.tumblr.com)


End file.
